Beyond the Possible
by Kujira
Summary: Sakura finds herself in the charge of an unexpected rescuer! My first fanfic, actually my first canon fanfic. Please comment! Rating T, for now.
1. Chapter 1

Her head was throbbing. The last thing she could remember was the sound of falling rocks. Dust still rose and filled her nostrils, the single shaft of sunlight breaking into the place making them shimmer for a split-second, so that the air was filled with what seemed like tiny particles of light. A dull pain somewhere in the lower part of her body nagged its way to her brain. It took some time for her to realise where it came from as she gazed blankly into the dark rocks before her. Scraps of cloth and wood were scattered about, and, as she caught a glimpse of purple poison dripping down a blade stuck in a wooden shell, the message of pain finally reached her mind. Her leg was jammed under a rock. She opened her mouth and let out a stifled yell.

A shadow covered her face. She could not see well, because the sun was shining right through the hole in the ceiling of the cave her last battle had caused, and into her eyes. She closed them. The rustling of a cloak told her the figure moved, and by the time she opened her eyes once more, it had disappeared, but this time there was the sound of rummaging. The pain was beginning to scream its message not only to her brain, but throughout her body. The bone had probably been shattered, and some blood vessels ruptured. She could not bring herself to gather enough chakra to heal it. Her mouth opened in a silent scream of pain, emitting, at the end, less than a squeak. She had less than a second to be taken by surprise when the pressure of the rock lifted, and she sank into darkness..

Cool. Dark. Slight breeze. The falling of a drop of water. A hint of light. A small sound of movement. Cloth, rustling. Smooth, clean, cool cloth. Cotton. Breath. Pulse. She was there. Her eyelids opened. She was clean, it was quiet, safe. Then, she felt the pain again... and the comforting cool and calmness of the darkness turned into the blazing red of agony. She clenched her teeth, breathing deeply through her flared nostrils. Concentrate! She closed her eyes, and sent healing chakra down her leg. The first effort was tremendous, but after she repaired some of the damage, she inhaled a shuddered breath, and fell asleep.

The next time she opened her eyes, the darkness was more solid, the coolness leaning to cold, and there was another blanket upon her, besides a towel folded neatly across her forehead. Her mouth was dry. Again, the pain called for attention, but not as urgently as before. This time, she could feel the stiff brace supporting her injured leg. Focusing, inhaling and exhaling, putting all her mind to one purpose, she again sent chakra to her wounded leg, working with its flow, restoring the tissue. When she was exhausted, she fell asleep again, a light, furtive sleep, interrupted by fits of fever, dreams such as she had never seen, nightmares where she had to battle unnamed fears, all calling, cajoling her. As the fever subsided, so did the nightmares. Exhausted, she drifted into a dreamless sleep...

Quiet, subtle, cold hands wiped the sweat off her, and changed the towel on her forehead. A candle-lamp made its way out of the room.

A few hours later, she opened her eyes again, and looked into the darkness. She was rested, but she had no energy or will to summon chakra just yet. Her mind was as dark, cool and still as the place she was in. She did not want to think. Turning her head to one side made her hair rustle on the pillow. A soft movement to her side startled her, but she could barely pull herself upright, when a hand supported her back, and she felt the rim of a cool ceramic cup touch her lips.

"Drink," said a dark voice gently.

Hesitating for a moment, she drank the cool, sweet water. It felt like spring rain inside her soul as she felt the water go down, soothing her body. When the cup was emptied, the hand supporting her carefully laid her down again, and whoever it was sat back into their chair beside her bed, and continued to watch her in the dark. Questions like, "Who are you?" "Where am I?" "What happened?" just drifted off into the darkness, and she simply lay her hand open, stretching it out to the sitter, her loose sleeve whispering on the sheet as it moved across. A soft hand took it, gently cradling it from beneath. Into the darkness crept a smile, lighting where the eye cannot see.

Sleep came, dreams came, and the Night was never gentler.


	2. Chapter 2

The light brought with it awakening, gently brushing her eyelids with its presence, coaxing her to consciousness. Opening her eyes, she saw a ceiling of limestone, white, plain. Her clothes had been changed, again, as was her all her bed linen. The heavy, stiff cast she had remembered yesterday was replaced by something lighter, thinner, perhaps a case of hide? At any rate, the pain was gone. However, she knew that she would not be able to use that leg for a week or two. She could, technically, but, if she wanted it to be able to use it again, she needed the rest.

If only she could set her mind at ease regarding her most generous host. Was it the Honourable Grandmother Chiyo? No, the voice and hands were not hers. Its tone reminded her slightly of... Never mind. She had to mend fast and be on her way. The others! They must be worried sick! What had happened to them? Had Naruto and Kakashi sensei succeeded in retrieving Gaara? Were they safe? Did they know where she was? She could not stay here a minute longer. She had to- _thump!_ – she fell, losing her balance, and landing on her injured leg. Pain shot up along the as-yet tender nerves, and she inhaled sharply between her teeth with a hiss. Lifting herself upon one elbow, she stretched out her other arm, laid it on the edge of the bed, and, found herself being gently yet firmly lifted onto it.

"Did you need to go to ..?" asked the owner of the arms that carried her.

She shook her head.

As he – for surely it was a he- rearranged her covers around her, she got a better look at her caretaker, but she was disappointed. A mask covered the face, showing nothing of the person's features. His voice, though, was that of a man, not too old, but definitely not too young, either. His clothing was a loose, long-sleeved garb that Sakura noticed she also was wearing, although hers was of undyed linen, while his was a coarse dark material. As they moved, what skin of his arms and hands she could see was flawless, like white marble. His hair was wrapped in a kerchief or cloth, dark in colour.

"Next time you wish to move, let me know," he said.

She could swear he was grinning beneath the mask. His _voice _grinned.

"Rest now."

She nodded, and he left.

She did not know why, but she did not want him to see what she was doing to help herself. When she was sure he had gone far enough, she began focusing her energy once more on her fracture. She healed herself much more thoroughly, gradually, concentrating little by little on each part. This should not have taken more than its usual toll of fatigue, yet the loss of blood and the fever told on her, and her body called for more rest.

When she opened her eyes, it was dark again, and this time, she was wrapped in a warm blanket of a soft, fleecy material she could not identify. Well it was, for the night, as she could tell by the stars cutting the sky through the window, was truly cold, and she was given a sleeping-cap as well. Shifting a little, she could see the figure from the night before. If helplessness had put in her an unquestioning trust then, all her senses were alert now. She almost recoiled, like a spring ready to go off. A soft chuckle, with the voice barely audible, shook the person sitting across her. Had they wanted to hurt her, they would have done so ages ago. _Think, girl._

"Where is Chiyo-Baasama?"

The figure stopped laughing. After a pause, the deep, velvety voice said, "She is resting."

At that, Sakura leaned back in relief, only to be interrupted by the man propping her up against extra pillows. A night-lamp's shade was lifted, giving a reddish light to the otherwise dark room. It revealed a bowl of broth on a small cabinet next to her.

"Drink," said the voice, again.

The broth was simple, delicious. It consisted of meat stock and fresh vegetables that were hardly boiled, rather sprinkled in at the last minute. Her current constitution could not take more, anyway. When done, he retreated and closed the door behind him, though not completely, nodding a good night on his way out.

After he had left, she could not sleep for some time. She looked out of the window, at the stars. They winked at her. She sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, she was awake at dawn, the blue twilight filling the room with its sacred stillness, a pause in between the worlds of Darkness and Light, the world catching its breath for a few moments before the first birds heralded the sun. She drew herself up to a sitting position, carefully pulling her injured leg. Her shoulders shivered at the touch of the cold air. She closed her eyes, and inhaled, slowly, deeply, drifting into the moment before awakening her energy and focusing her chakra onto her leg again. Carefully, thoroughly, she went through the entire structure of bone, muscle, veins. All her careful studies in anatomy had been paying off: she finally succeeded, within two hours or so, in restoring the leg entirely.

By the time she was done, however, she was tired enough to slip back underneath the covers and take a nap that rested her till noon. When she opened her eyes again, this time she saw, in addition to a pair of slippers, a crutch by the bedside. The case of hide had been replaced by a brace, like a splint.

So, he _had_ been watching, or else checking on her progress. This made her wary, but she still needed to move. Forgetting the previous day's instruction, she peeled off her covers, slowly swung her legs to the bedside and gingerly put the slippers on, and, holding the crutch, carefully tested her weight on the leg. No pain, but a grogginess coming from lying for so long , added to the exhaustion of overcoming the fever, made her sway a little, but within an instant she had managed to stand upright.

"Well done!"

Her head snapped towards the voice. He stood in the doorway. "I'll show you to the wash-room." She blushed, and, remembering her change of clothes, turned scarlet, but nodded and took a careful first step, followed by another, slowly going towards the door. Healed as it was, her leg felt still-new? Unfamiliar? She almost fell once or twice, and, unnoticed to her, he flinched each time, as if to support her, but did not come close.

He led her through a dimly lit corridor towards the wash-room. Handles had been -recently- installed into the walls, and she could manage to use it well enough. When she had finished, and washed her hands, she found him outside. "Come," he said, and took her other arm, gently supporting it by the elbow, and led her to the bath-room of the house. It was well-lit, tiled with a blue stone, like the colour of the sea on a clear day. It cheered her, as did the sight of the bath-water, steaming with promises of cleanliness, civilisation. Washing the grime and grit of travel outside the tub, she entered it for a relaxing soak. She cooled it with the bucket of cold water nearby, for it was bad for a body to be exposed to so much heat after such damage. The water took all that remained of her weariness, cleansed her of worry. She gathered her chakra again, and, this time, instead of focusing it on one spot, gently spread it throughout her body, circulating it, re-energising herself.

In the anteroom, a fresh change of clothes awaited her, a similar robe, but this one had an embroidered trim, depicting animals and flowers she had not seen before. Washed, dressed, and one with the rest of humanity, she stood up. She did not need the crutch or the brace. She opened the door to find him there. Without a word, she followed him to a cheery little kitchen, where a meal was set for two. Broth, bread, dried fruit, and cool spring water. Before they sat down, she asked, "I thank you for all you have done for me, yet I wish to know…Where is Honourable Grandmother Chiyo?"

He stopped as he was about to draw a stool out for her. "She is resting," said he, his voice almost faltering.

"Who are you?"

"We break bread first," came the firm reply.

They ate in sombre silence. Sakura hardly lifted her gaze above her plate in the beginning, thinking of Chiyo _Baasama_. She had saved her life, and he completed the task, but who was he? Her eyes went up, and rested upon the only visible part of him: his hands. Fine-boned, with oblong nails, moving with grace while performing even the most ordinary movements, they seemed unused to work of the kind that made beds, washed clothes, and cooked meals, let alone found their way to battle scenes.

The meal ended, and with it, the uncomfortable silence. She found herself having stood up together with him at the same moment, and not bothering to be surprised by this, they both cleared the table, and he took the plates to be washed. She stood for a while at the table, then tried to find her way back to her room. _Her_ room? She had only been here for two nights, and yet.. ah, she had to return to the others! And there was the rendezvous with Orochimaru's henchman within ten days of their last combat..but this door was different than the one that led to her room. Should she? She wanted to see Chiyo Baasama, to know she was well. She wanted her own clothes and gear back. She opened the door and went in.

The sight that greeted her eyes was that of a dark room, where she could barely discern a bed. Tracing the source of light from a slit in the wall, she went towards it, and finding it to be the gap between two curtains, opened them to let in the sunlight. The window looked out upon a vast desert, stretching across as far as the eye could see, broken here and there by a few scrubs of dry bushes or plants, and what seemed like a cluster of trees – an oasis, perhaps?- taking refuge in the shadow of a small hill. Other than that, it was a great emptiness stretching out for what seemed like infinity, hammered by the sun into a whiteness that stung the eyes. She blinked and turned towards the room. She gasped, and rushed forward.

Lady Chiyo was lying on a bed, her eyes closed, her hair neatly combed and coiled to one side. Sakura said, "Chiyo Baasama!" and touched her lightly on the shoulder. Seeing no response, she was about to check her for life signs when a soft sound made her look up in panic to see a shadow in the doorway. "_Resting!_ You said she was _resting__!_ Is this your idea of a joke? How _could_ you?" Her eyes grew blurry as she patted Lady Chiyo on her shoulders, petted her, hugged her, and finally sank into her chest, heaving with sobs. " _How?_ "

"She is resting. This is her final repose." His voice was flat.

She looked again at Lady Chiyo. Indeed, she seemed like she was but asleep. Her face was serene, oh, heaven, happy. Yet, medical training told Sakura that this particular tint of skin was not normal in death. She was too- vivid? She touched her Grandmother Chiyo. Yes, her comrade, but also her guardian, in a way. The skin of her face was – hard. Cold, cool, like glazed ceramic. Sakura recoiled with an instinctive loathing and horror, recovering from it in a split second.

"Who- WHAT in the world _are_ you?" she said fiercely, lifting her head again. As she did so, she noticed the other contents of the room, and her eyes widened. Lining the wall were human-sized puppets, of all shapes and sizes. No, it could not be- or – could it be that Lady Chiyo had, in fact, made her greatest sacrifice, and made her dream come true?

It came slowly. It rose up from the soles of her feet, sweeping up in a giant, billowing, knowing, caressing wave of intense yet purposeful heat. Rage came in an army of triumph and posessed the soul of Haruno Sakura. Instinct and Training greeted it with violent glee and joined its ranks as she did not even notice that she had sprung clear over the final resting-place of the departed, her hand balled into a fist harder than steel, aiming for his throat.


	4. Chapter 4

Forward she arced, all thought and reason thrown to the winds. Thus it was that she was caught by surprise as he deftly sidestepped her attack and gripped her wrist before it made contact with him -or with anything else, for that matter- and swung her in front of him, locking both her wrists in front of her. She tried kicking backwards, but he used his legs to lock hers. Backward headbutts were equally avoided, all the time keeping her bound. He was flexible, strong. It was halfway through the struggle that her consciousness began to creep back into her, and it finally won the fight that her body had lost. She was trapped.

"Woman's wit and woman's wile," they may say, but the tears that flowed, and the sobs that shook her were geniune. "How-" she sobbed, "Could you," she inhaled, "DO that," shivered, "To HER!" Silent tears followed as she leant over, shoulders shuddering. "You- MONSTER. What have you _done_?" She said, finally lifting her head. His grip remained firm. "What I could," came the gentle reply. At this, she gaped, looking blankly at where Lady Chiyo lay, perfect in death. "Sh-she gave you her LIFE." His arms relaxed, was about to let her go, when Sakura's body went limp,

and she sank back into his chest, crying, crying her heart out. He simply held her as she was, neither locking her in nor letting her go. A shiver that went through him brought her back out of the waters she had just drowned in. She raised her head, and turned to him, his arms still around her, but, this time, his hands went to her shoulders as his hunched and began to shake. He stood crying silently until slowly, gradually, he sank to his knees as his arms fell to his side, his hands open, helpless.

Through his mind flashed visions that blurred their way to his emotions. He shook with more intensity as his years of solitude finally bore down upon him. He fell again into that Darkness that claimed him in his childhood. That dangerous Darkness that had no borders or limits, only pain and ambition as the only way out. Despair ate into his soul, when all of a sudden he sensed arms encircle him, and take him back to the light of day. Behind the mask, a pair of deep auburn eyes opened in surprise, their unshed tears threatening to fall off the shelf of long, black lashes.

There was a way, after all.

Another way out of the Dark. Those arms held him, strong and warm. A head rested upon his shoulder, asking for support in return. Yet another way: to help another in their plight. There were many, many roads, then. All it took was a single touch to tell you they existed.

His arms rose, as if of their own accord, and went around this source of light and warmth. This life that he'd almost taken, yet nursed. As he held her, he realised he'd been touched before, in that Darkness; taken out again. His first saviour had gone from this world in order to keep him here, not only alive, but aware of the hundreds of other ways out of the Dark. She had also left him a beacon. He held tightly onto it.


	5. Chapter 5

She looked up and found that the mask still hid him from her. It was almost annoying, not being able to see the full expression of his face. Shifting in his arms without breaking their ring, she raised her own, and reached for its laces. He flinched slightly, instinct pulling him back into his shell.

"Let me," she said firmly.

He let her loosen the knots, and reveal the tender flower within.

One could say she was taken aback. Vulnerability was never so beautiful, so sweet. Though he was in his mid-twenties, he had locked his form into a puppet's many years before, and after the - Rebirth, what else could she call it?- childlike innocence still prevailed upon his features. Yet the indifferent coldness was gone. In its place was a plea for gentleness, and a promise of strength and joy, like a wide open summer sky, if it were answered.

The mask slipped through her fingers, and the 'clack' as it hit the floor brought her back to her senses.

She glanced at it, then at him…

Whatever moments may come, they must eventually succumb to the demands of the present. This is one of the odder little tragedies of life, one that pokes fun at our breaks from the expected, whilst taking us by the hand and leading us onto whatever we -or our circumstances- choose.

Neither of them, however, had the luxury of reflecting on life lessons, nor the leisure of taking comfort in each other forever. Distant though it may seem for the time being, they were in a battlefield with powerful players betting on high stakes, gambling with lives for currency. Thus it was that the word 'Stay' rested on the edge of his lips, and the word, 'Come' flew through hers.

After a brief silence, she was surprised by his chuckle.

"I cannot leave," he said.

True. He was still a wanted criminal. One who had to guard his saviour.

"Yes, you can. No, you must. How long before– " she paused - "_They_ find you?"

Outlaws though they may be, the Akatsuki, just like the legitimate _nin_, did not look too kindly upon retrogades. He smiled. "I have to take care of her."

"You owe her a proper funeral, and your people an apology," came the curt reply.

He sighed, and was about to let her go when she continued, "No better way to do that than by serving them." She looked him right in the eye. "I'll vouch for you."

"Vouch?"

"Vouch, fight, I'm on your side."

He gave his formidable foe- now ally- a gentle squeeze before letting her go. His expression was a mixture of gratitude and bemusement.

"As you wish."

She looked behind him at the Lady Chiyo. It was to be quite a delicate quest, carrying the dear departed across the desert while on the run.

He followed her gaze, and smiled.

"Give me some time."

Whereupon Sakura, after taking a second glance, got up to leave.

"I shall need your help if you can afford me your strength, once I have prepared the ritual," he said. She nodded. "Come when I call you, then."

She shut the door behind her, feeling like she was shutting it against a very strong space, trying to exit its walled boundaries. Already? Had he already begun to accumulate this much energy as they spoke?

She tried to keep herself busy by..resting. She needed all the strength she could muster, yet she remained close to that room. It felt like she'd dozed but for twenty minutes when a muffled voice called to her from far away:

"Sakura!"

"I'm coming, dad," she mumbled in her sleep.

_"Sakura!"_the voice came more urgently.

"M-h?..Oh!" She was up like a shot.

"Where have you been? Please stand across me, upon those markers over there." Sweat beaded his brow in tiny droplets, wetting the tips of his ruby locks if they dared come near, curling them away in sharp, pointed whorls.

A ritual diagram, circular in shape, had been drawn out onto the entirety of the bed and floors, with four poles, two aligned with the head and feet of Lady Chiyo, and two with where Sasori and Sakura now stood. A scroll lay open along the length of Lady Chiyo, blank sheet stark against its deep green silk brocade mounting.

"This is the grounding for a summoning scroll. We shall inscribe, if you will, my honourable grandmother into this scroll. Don't give me that face. Now, follow my hands as we make the seals. I dare not utter them for fear of locking them out of harmony. Agreed?"

A nod.

"Now, follow my lead, please," said the youth as he began to chant while he formed the seals in slow, precise movements. Before they had begun, Sakura had thought this was a piece of cake. However, it is even more difficult following a slow-paced, long ritual than it is to quickly flick one's hands for a jutsu during combat.

The huge amount of energy that she had felt shutting into the room when she closed the door began to decrease around her, and flow somewhere else. This was a power stream outside the chakra that was visible to her. Slowly but surely it decreased, and with it shrank the circle they were standing upon, shrinking with it the figure of Lady Chiyo, until all swirled into blackness and flowed into the scroll, filling it with row upon row of writing, interrupted by an empty circle just like the one they had been standing on. The scroll unfurled as more and more of the jutsu inscribed itself on it, its other end rolling itself up as quickly as the markings set themselves on its inner surface.

No sooner had all the jutsu been absorbed into the scroll, when it rolled itself shut with a snap, its ebony rods clicking together sharply, and fell onto the now empty bed.

Sasori swayed, then fell to his knees, chest heaving.

"Are you all right?"

"Wa..ter," he rasped.

Without another word she'd brought him water, and was having him drink it, cradled like a child. She was, at the same time, channeling a little healing chakra into him as she held him, to keep his heart running, at any rate.

He managed a chuckle. "Heh, been ..ages. Must be..old," he smiled. He definitely looked older, now. The sheer effort must have cost him a year's ageing. He sipped again, gratefully, before sinking back into her arm.

"That jutsu..not..easy," he ventured. "Eats..life…Sakura..strong." he then closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep. He looked like a shrivelled child, now.

She cradled him with both arms, looking with wonder, as mothers do at their children in their sleep, disbelieving that these tiny angels are the very same little monsters that ravaged their household not minutes before.

She could be stronger, who knows. She had a good natural talent for focusing her chakra, and was used to using it frequently, over long durations at times, for healing purposes. In his case, he had used his energy in relatively short, powerful bursts during combat. Though he had perfect command over his chakra along the fine threads he used to control his puppets, drawing a large amount of chakra, and holding back _that _additional power during the ritual for three hours straight had been too much for him to bear.

Summoning her iron strength, Sakura lifted her warden in her arms, and carried him gently to his room. That night, the moon healed his heart and beauty, drenching them in her liquid blue pearl that delivered dreams of long-lost family, speaking, laughing, playing with him.

All the while a warm light graced the features of a younger girl, its flame flickering in her green eyes as they followed the movements of her hands, preparing medications and provisions for their long journey ahead.


End file.
